


And the Wind from the Bay blew away the Flowers in his Hair

by merle_p



Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-05
Updated: 2009-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:57:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/pseuds/merle_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1992, Robert McCallister picks up a prostitute in a seedy street in San Francisco; convinced that after that night, he's never going to see him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Wind from the Bay blew away the Flowers in his Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Written in February 2009.  
> Slight spoilers for the first season.  
> _Brothers &amp; Sisters_ belong to ABC; if Kevin and Robert belonged to me, I'd let them have hot office!sex all the time. *nods*  
> Sooo ..... I wrote hooker!fic. He. Well. Every fandom needs its hooker!fic, right? A few words about the time line: Robert was born in 1965, Kevin in 1972. Robert went to war in 1990/91, about the same time that Kevin got outed to his family. This story begins two years later, in 1992.

**I.**

The kid looks like he's barely 18, and Robert hopes that he's at least legal (or whatever "legal" means under the given circumstances). Not that it would stop him if he was not – because if you've been at war, if you've seen people die, if you've made the wrong decisions and then lied about it afterwards, then some things seem less important in comparison; but even if he's sunk so low that he's picking up male hookers in the streets of Tenderloin, he still thinks he doesn't want to fuck a kid younger than his own baby brother.

"How old are you?" he asks, before he can stop himself. He fully expects to be fed a line, but the kid actually chuckles; tired and hollow, but nevertheless amused.

"Are you sure you didn't ask the wrong question?" he asks, elbow on the open car door, bending over a little to peek inside.

Robert stares at his face, illuminated by neon signs and street lights, boyishly pretty, pale and delicate, surrounded by a mass of black curls, eyes a startling blue. It's the face that drew him in in the first place, made him pick this one out of the dozens of prostitutes lined up on the curb, although the rest of him is not exactly revolting either.

"And what would be the right question?" he asks back, smiling almost against his will, and is surprised by the smile he gets in return.

"How much for a fuck, what are the terms, are you clean, what's your name?" the boy replies, and from the way he rattles through the words, Robert gets the impression that he's heard those questions far too often. He suppresses the sudden urge to tell the boy that he should get off the streets, find a decent job, because Robert might be a lot of things, but he tries not to be a hypocrite. Lots of time for that in the future, if he's going to become a politician.

"And?" he says instead. "What would you say if I asked you the 'right questions'"?

The boy shrugs awkwardly. "Thirty for a blow job, sixty for a fuck. I'm clean, and I intend to stay that way, so no bareback, no matter how much you offer."

"And your name?"

"What?" The boy looks at him in confusion.

"Your name", Robert says. "You forgot to tell me your name."

The boy smiles again, and this time, it's a smile tinged with sadness. "It's – it's Kevin. Call me Kevin."

"Is that your real name?" Robert asks.

The boy frowns. "Do you care?"

Robert shrugs, not really sure himself. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Kevin gives him a long glance, before he nods slowly. "Yes. Yes, it's my real name. And I'm 20, by the way. It's my real age, too."

Robert smiles, feeling oddly delighted for some reason. "I'm Robert", he says. "And I've got a hotel room in South of Market."

***

Kevin is good. Really good. Robert got a few blow jobs while he was in the military, and one time, one of the guys let Robert fuck him – at night, behind the truck, uniform pants around their ankles, the guy biting down on his bandana to keep quiet. It was rough, and dirty, and shameful, but it made Robert realize that a hard male body appealed to him so much more than the soft curves of a woman ever could.

And Kevin's body is exquisite – skin pale and smooth, the dark curls on his chest silky-soft, perfect mixture of boyish awkwardness and youthful grace; and he addresses himself to the task of pleasuring Robert with a dedication and concentration that makes Robert think that this guy could have a great future if he'd concentrate his attention on school instead of sucking strangers off in hotel rooms.

"What happened?" Kevin asks, when he kneels in front of Robert to unbutton his pants and discovers the scar. It still hasn't healed properly, sometimes making sudden movements slightly painful, and it doesn't look exactly pretty: skin still raised, a darkish pink against the fairer skin of his thigh.

"War", he says, because there is no need to lie, but no reason to talk about it either, and Kevin doesn't offer his condolences, doesn't ask – in fact, doesn't say anything at all, just nods and bends his head and licks along the scar, slowly, painstakingly, and Robert shivers under the caress.

***

Afterwards, they share a cigarette, leaning next to each other in the small window of the non-smoking hotel room; Kevin still here, because Robert asked him to stay; Kevin still naked, because Robert asked him to leave his clothes off. And Robert is the one paying, so of course Kevin does what he says, but he still gets the impression that the boy doesn't exactly mind sticking around for a while.

When he passes the cigarette back to the kid, he notices that he has a scar, too – across his left shoulder blade, faded, pale, but long enough to be clearly visible. Robert reaches out and follows the line with his index finger.

"What happened?" he asks.

Kevin turns his head backwards, trying to follow the movement of Robert's hand with his eyes. "My brother", he says, and despite the casual tone, he can't quite hide the pain that resonates in the words.

Robert lets his hand drop. "Is he the reason why you're here?" He doesn't really know why he asks, he knows it's none of his business, and it's not very likely that Kevin will even tell him the truth. And still, he feels like he needs to understand how this fragile boy with the sharp mind and the skilled hands ended up here, in the streets of San Francisco, allowing men like Robert to rip him open for three 20-dollar bills.

Kevin laughs quietly and promptly chokes on the smoke in his throat. "No", he says, when the coughing fit is over, "God, no. He did that when we were kids. It was an accident … we used to play this game; Sarah and Tommy on one team, Kitty and me on the other, and Tommy tackled me just at the top of the stairs, and of course, we both fell. Mom totally freaked, I thought she would ..." He trails off suddenly, raising his shoulders in an embarrassed shrug. "Sorry. Never mind."

He holds out the cigarette, and Robert takes it. "So why _are_ you here?" he asks. He doesn't seem to be able to let it go.

Kevin smirks, mouth curled in the mockery of a smile. "You really love to ask difficult questions, don't you?"

Robert shrugs, feeling strangely flattered, even if he is sure it wasn't meant to be a compliment. "You don't have to answer. I don't pay you for that."

"I guess not", Kevin says, watching the people down in the street. "The old story", he finally says. "My family found out I liked boys. My father was not happy. Said I had to _stop_. Said I was embarrassing the whole family." He laughs humorlessly. "I said I'd leave. He said not to come back. Et voilà – here I am."

"I'm sorry", Robert says, and finds that he means it. "You know that being gay is nothing to be ashamed of."

Kevin laughs, not even sounding bitter, but genuinely amused. "Did you read that in a _book_?" he asks, and then, more seriously: "And if you believe that, why are you here?"

"What do you mean?"

Kevin shrugs, stubbing out the cigarette on the window frame. "Don't get me wrong, but you don't look like the type who actually has to pay to have sex. In fact, I'm sure there are a lot of guys out there who'd be more than willing to get on their knees for you. So if you are not actually into the hooker thing – which I doubt – I figure you aren't out yet."

Robert raises a brow. "I was in the army, and I want to go into politics. It's kind of hard to get elected if people know you're gay."

"Harvey Milk did it", Kevin says, challenge in his voice.

"Harvey Milk was a Democrat", Robert replies. "And he got shot before he turned fifty. Besides, there's San Francisco, and there's the rest of the world."

Kevin sighs, playing around with the cigarette stub, and Robert wants to reach for his hand and make him let go of the butt. "If you want to become a senator, you probably should stop doing things like this."

"Things like what?" Robert asks, curling his hand into a loose fist on the window seat.

"Picking up hookers." He shrugs. "It's not exactly legal, and -"

"And what?"

"It not safe, either", he says quietly. "I've been getting tested, but others don't."

Robert half-smiles, surprised. "Are you _worried_ about me?"

The boy gives him an angry look. "Fuck you. I'm just telling you how it is. If you want me to shut up, just say so."

Robert sighs. "I'm sorry. I know." He gives into the temptation and reaches out, fingers curling around Kevin's wrist, and he tells himself that he imagines the boy melting into the touch. "But you know that what you're doing isn't exactly safe, either."

The boy shrugs, and Robert's hand falls away. "Right now, I don't have many options."

***

It's almost three am when Robert allows the kid to slip back into his clothes. He's got an important meeting at nine, but he survived worse things with less sleep during the war, he thinks he'll manage a business brunch after a night like this.

"Be careful", he says, without really meaning to, and Kevin smiles and nods – and then he leaves, a new cigarette behind his ear, a love bite on his neck, and 200 Dollars in the back pocket of his faded jeans.

 

**II.**

When Kitty invites him to her mother's 60th birthday party, Robert is not exactly surprised. He has suspected for a while now that his new communications director might be interested in him; he just hasn't decided what to do about it – if he should let her down gently with a good excuse (and he's got an impressive repertoire of good excuses), or if he actually should encourage her, just a bit, and cultivate the image of the heterosexual, reserved traditional he's been working to create over the last few years (and damn, he really has become a calculating asshole).

Kitty has already told him that her family is insane, and from what he can tell after the first thirty minutes, it wasn't an exaggeration. The waiters are wearing medieval costumes, Nora's mother is in her late seventies but very clearly not too old to grope pretty boys, and apparently Kitty's sister made a porn movie for her mother's birthday, but Robert finds that it's relieving to meet a family that's actually even crazier than his own. The only thing he's afraid of is that Kitty's gay brother might show up and confront him over his vote in favor of the ban against gay marriage, because if he has to defend his decision on this subject one more time, he might shoot somebody – or himself.

However, the gay brother seems to make himself sparse, and it's only after he's met every other member of the family that Kitty drags him into the kitchen and says: "So here are you hiding, Kevin."

And then the man leaning against the kitchen counter turns around, looking at him with those incredibly blue eyes, and the realization hits Robert like a punch to the stomach.

"This ... this is your brother?" he asks, and Kevin gives him a tiny, crooked smile. "Nice to meet you, Senator."

***

Later, he finds him outside, sitting on a bench in the back garden, staring down at the beer in his hands. When Robert approaches, he scoots over to make room for him without a word, and Robert sits down on the very edge of the bench, tense and nervous, and – well, he should be. Because here is someone who knows his darkest secret, who could easily destroy his career, his life, with a few words to the wrong person – and still, he has the suspicion that the tight feeling in his chest is much more about how Kevin looks so much like he did back then, face still boyishly soft, pink lips and black curls, even if he carries himself different now, a bit more confident, a bit less awkward. It's almost painful to see him like this and to remember; remember the way his hands felt on his skin, the way his lips looked around a cigarette.

"You look good", he says hoarsely, and Kevin gives him an actual, honest-to-god smile.

"You look better than you did."

"This is ... unexpected", Robert says, and he realizes that his voice is not quite as steady as it should   
be. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Kevin shoots him a short glance, then looks back down at his hands. "I didn't think you'd even remember me."

Robert wants to tell him that nothing could be further away from the truth. Instead, he shrugs. "You remember me, too."

Kevin snorts. "It's kinda hard not to. You've been on the news quite a lot lately."

"And you never told anybody that you know me? Not even when your sister started working for me? Don't get me wrong ... I appreciate it, but – why?"

Kevin closes his eyes, and breathes, before he opens them again. "Because I'm sure that my boss wouldn't be very happy to find out that I spent four years of my youth turning tricks. Because you are in the closet and I know what it's like to be outed against your will. Because my family would kill you, literally, if they found out how we met, and you really don't deserve that."

"Maybe I do", Robert says angrily.

Kevin laughs sharply. "Come on, Robert", he says, "you wanted something, I offered, you paid. It's as simple as that. Just because prostitution isn't legal in the States doesn't mean it's immoral."

Robert narrows his eyes. "You are a Democrat, aren't you?"

"But then you already knew that, didn't you?" Kevin asks dryly. "Anyway", he continues more softly, looking away, "believe me, that night was not the worst I had on the job."

"It's good to see you here", Robert says. "I'm glad that you are fine, that you are not ..."

"What?" Kevin hisses, his face closing up like a cloud hiding the sun. "Glad that I ended up here with my family, instead of a back alley, cut up by some psycho and left to die?"

Robert looks away, and Kevin sighs. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." He laughs hollowly, and it's just like the first time Robert heard him laugh all over again. "Actually, that's exactly what happened."

Robert shivers in the cold night air, and he wraps his arms around himself. "What?"

"I made a mistake", Kevin says, twirling the bottle in his hands. "You told me to be careful, remember? Well, I wasn't. Picked the wrong guy. He beat me up. Broke my ribs, my collarbone; my ankle too. I was lucky that someone called an ambulance. At the hospital, they found my ID, called my family. Tommy got into the car and drove to San Francisco, in the middle of the night. They'd thought I was dead."

He's still playing with the beer bottle, and with a sense of déja-vu, Robert fights to keep himself from reaching out to still his hand. "And your father?" he asks, to distract himself, and Kevin gives him a look, half amused, half annoyed.

"You still like to ask difficult questions, don't you?"

"You don't have to …" Robert starts, but Kevin interrupts him: "Didn't Kitty tell you? My parents got divorced while I was away", he says, sounding resigned, and bitter. "Turns out that my father had an affair with another woman, and that combined with the fact that he had kicked his son out to the curb … apparently, that was too much for my mother to forgive. He moved out of the house, and in with his mistress and her daughter." He shrugs. "When I apologized to Mom for ruining their marriage, she said that their relationship had been ruined long before I left. My siblings ... Sarah and Tommy kept working for Dad, and Kitty and Justin met up with him once or twice a week. He never asked to see me. He died last year, did you know? I was at the funeral – that was the first time I saw him since I'd left." His draws a shaky breath. "You don't have a cigarette by any chance, do you?"

Robert shakes his head, wistfully. "No. I gave up smoking years ago."

Kevin nods, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I figured. Senator Robert McCallister – war hero, fitness freak, handsome, single and straight ... the perfect son-in-law, if he should ever decide to get married." He stands abruptly. "I should go inside. They are going to wonder where we are."

"Kevin", Robert catches his wrist before he can walk away. It feels different; more solid than it did back then, but the skin is still smooth and soft under his fingers. "Kevin. Can we – do you want to have dinner sometime?"

Kevin doesn't struggle against his touch, his wrist limp in Robert's grip. "You still want to fuck me?" His voice is tinged with disbelief.

Robert feels himself blushing, even when he shakes his head. "I was talking about dinner."

Kevin swallows thickly. "Robert .... that's a really bad idea. You are in the closet, and I – I just did the Dating a closeted guy-thing, and it wasn't good. I can't do that again, okay? I need ... I think I need some tradition in my life right now, and you are not the one to give me that. Besides, secrets never stay secret very long in this family. They'd find out before you know it." He sighs, rubs his free hand over his face. "Also, I think Kitty likes you."

Robert groans. "Yeah, about that ... I was actually thinking about introducing her to my brother."

Kevin raises a brow. "The minister?" He laughs quietly. "Well, he's cute, so why not? He probably would be good for her. Better than you, anyway." He takes a step backwards, and Robert lets go of his hand.

"Good luck with the campaign, Senator", he says, and then he turns around and walks away. Robert stays where he is, watching him leave, and wills himself not to cry.

 

**III. **

He doesn't sleep well that night. Wakes up in the wee hours of the morning from a nightmare about war, soaked in sweat and shivering. It's a dream he hasn't had in years, and it leaves him restless and nauseous, and unable to go back to sleep. He gets up for a glass of water and ends up jerking off in his kitchen, thinking about Kevin's tongue on his scar and his lips around his cock, and after he comes, he's shaking so badly that he lights one of the cigarettes Travis left at his house last week.

"Are you alright?" Kitty asks the next morning, face showing concern and curiosity when she drops a stack of files on his desk.

"Yes, I'm fine", Robert says, trying to sound convincing. "Just didn't sleep well, is all."

Kitty nods slowly and looks like she's about to leave, before she suddenly turns back to look him in the face. "Does this have anything to do with Kevin?"

"What?" Robert croaks, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Come on", she says, giving him her You can't fool me-look, "I'm not stupid. My brother is gay and a Democrat, and working for a human rights organization, not to mention extremely sarcastic and slightly bitchy at times, and I expected you to be at each other's throats after five minutes top. Yet, you ended up talking for an hour in my mother's back garden, and Kevin refuses to tell me what it was about, which is a miracle on its own. So what the hell is going on here?"

Robert knows that now would be a good time to break out his collection of good excuses, knows that he should just tell her to mind her own business – he's still her boss, after all, he doesn't owe her an explanation, and she knows it very well. But he is tired; spent the last night worrying; guilt about what happened to Kevin a heavy weight in his stomach; wondering if his brother would tell him that any sin can be forgiven if it's regretted and confessed; and the words come out before can even really think about it.

"We met once", he says hoarsely, "years ago. In San Francisco."

"San Francisco", Kitty echoes, face blank. If Robert had any doubt that Kevin's family knows what he did while he was gone, Kitty's expression would have dispelled it now, and with a jolt of fear, he realizes that he is about to make an enemy.

"In San Francisco", Kitty repeats, and now Robert can see how nervous she's herself; hand shaking when she reaches up to push her hair out of her face. "Where -"

"At a party", someone suddenly says, and when Robert looks up, there is Kevin leaning in the door to his office, looking tired, but still gorgeous in his dark blue suit.

"Kevin", Kitty says, sounding shocked, "what are you doing here?"

"We met at a party, Kitty", Kevin says sharply, ignoring her question. "A party while I was in college, and I asked him for a cigarette, that's all. So back off already, will you?"

"Oh", Kitty says, obviously shaken, and Robert realizes that now she's the one who thinks she said too much. "Okay. I'm sorry, okay, I'll just – I'll just leave you two alone. I'll – I'll talk to you later."

She flees, door slamming in her wake, and Kevin leans against it as soon as it's closed.

"God", Robert says, and tries to get his breathing back under control. His heart is still racing as if he just ran a marathon. "You saved my life."

Kevin smiles awkwardly. "She can get a little overprotective at times. Don't worry, I'll talk to her."

"I'm not worried ..." Robert starts, then shakes his head. There's no point in lying. "What are you doing here?"

Kevin looks uncomfortable, and slightly flushed, and for a moment, Robert thinks he's going to bolt. But then he tilts his head, mouth curling in a smile, and asks: "How old are you?"

"Excuse me?" Robert stares at him in confusion, because of all the things he expected Kevin to say, this was not one of them, and he's already about to open his mouth to tell him that – when he suddenly, finally gets it, and now his heart is racing for completely different reasons. "Are you ..." he clears his throat and starts again. "Are you sure you didn't ask the wrong question?"

Kevin straightens and steps away from the door. "And what would be the right question?"

Robert smiles. "Are you free tonight? Looking for a relationship? Willing to put up with my crazy, crazy family?"

Kevin laughs. "So are you?" he asks, and then more quietly, almost shyly: "Free tonight?"

Robert groans when he remembers. "No. No, damnit, I've got this meeting tonight, and ..." Kevin looks unsure, ready to flee, and Robert knows if he lets him leave now, he's never going to see him again. "But you could come to my place afterwards?"

Kevin raises a brow. "No hotel room?"

"No hotel room", Robert says, hopefully. "And you can bring the wine."

Kevin sighs. "Robert, you know that if you want to become President, you really shouldn't do things like this."

"Things like what?"

"Inviting hookers to your place."

"You are not a hooker anymore", Robert growls, and Kevin chokes out a laughter.

"Do you really think the papers are going to care about that, once they find out?"

Robert doesn't answer. _I_ don't care, he wants to say, and doesn't, because it would be a lie – he _does_ care, really, he does – and still, the idea of letting Kevin walk away again seems unacceptable right now. Before he can tell him that, though, Kevin shrugs. "I guess it doesn't really matter", he says. "Because I'd come anyway. And I'll bring the wine."

He opens the office door and says: "Kitty, you can come back inside now", and then he leaves – and for the first time, Robert watches him go without regret.


End file.
